To those who suffer
From despressive states:
I know your base existence.
I share your mental predispositions.

It’s not a constant sadness,
At least not at first.
It’s a cancer,
A living, growing thing.
It feeds off of moments
And it’s not the host’s fault.
There are treatments,
Drugs, and therapy,
But there is no cure,
Just a gentle staving off.
You sail the seas of life,
With natural highs,
Natural lows,
And a plethora of whirlpools.
You start at the brim,
And the winds of fate
Gently push you
In.
The downward spiral begins,
The light seems further away.
Hope slips
And the struggle intensifies.
With water on all sides
You forget how the surface appears,
And all you know
Is the darkest depths.

It will swallow you,
If you let it.
The sea will still flow
As if you never were.
But there is always hope,
Even with…